In Winter
by HC247
Summary: Phantom plus snow equals endless possibilities! Shameless E/C fluff. One-shot. Take as you will. Reviews much appreciated!


It's been a while..

I owe this story completely to my friend's insisting we watch the Phantom movie and then to her little comment about snow, which I have shamelessly incorporated into this little phiclet, so many thanks to her!

I hope you enjoy and homemade phantom cookies for anyone who reviews!(come on, you know you want 'em...:D)

And now, onto "In Winter"...

* * *

To say that the Phantom of the Opera was an enthusiast to surprises would be a vast understatement.

He was not even remotely fond of them; his sentiments were usually more on the borderline of loathsome.

It was for this reason that anyone who knew him(granted, the possibilities were limited to the Daroga and Madame Giry, but still…) were to see him in his present state, they might think him a complete and utter fool. For at this very moment, his keen eyes were concealed in a darkness that even he could not find his vision in and his large hands were enfolded in much smaller ones as he allowed himself to blindly led to an unknown destination.

Some would question his sanity. What would posses him, the man who placed his trust in no one other than himself, to permit himself to be blindfolded with a mere scrap of cloth and unwittingly led only God knows where.

For her. Only her. Everything for _her._

A slight veer to his left resulted in a sharp pain in his side and he bit back a curse. "Tell me, Christine. Have we far to go or am I to be subject to many more injuries by your leading."

Her soft laughter sounded in front of him. "Patience, Erik. We are nearly there."

An impatient huff was his only answer and somehow he knew that her lips were curling into a impish grin. Despite his aggravated façade, his heart was bursting within his chest. If anyone had told him only mere months ago that he would be here today, he would have laughed in their face.

Nearly a year had passed since the infamous disaster and much had happened within that time. After the fall of the Phantom, Erik had fled to Nice where he had vowed to begin anew. A life that did not include music or Christine. Imagine his surprise, then, when he opened the door of his home fully expecting to find the dour ballet mistress and her daughter, only to see the very object of his (well-concealed) affections.

Needless to say, their reunion had been far less than the romantic rendezvous either one had imagined. That encounter had, however, opened the door to the many unanswered questions that continued to haunt them both. By the end of that night, they had managed to form a fragile peace and in the following months, had reconnected faster than either one had anticipated or hoped. Granted, matters between them were still far from perfect, but both Erik and Christine had vowed to do whatever it took to make their relationship work, a promise that only a fortnight before they had publicly vowed before God and man.

Even as Erik felt Christine absently caress the solid gold band on his finger, it all seemed so surreal, a dream from which he had yet to awaken .

Pressure on his hands and the sudden release of Christine from his grasp caused him to falter. "Please warn me when you are about to stop so abruptly, my dear. I fear one misstep would be my last."

He was certain his wife was rolling her eyes at his childish whining "Really Erik, stop being so dramatic. You are only irritated with me for insisting you wear the blindfold."

"Christine, you know how I feel about these things."

A rustle of skirts told him that she was now facing him. "Are you speaking of my surprise? Come now, Erik. How often have I indulged you in your attempts to please me with carefully planned outings and thoughtful gifts."

"You never complained." was his indignant reply

She chuckled and he felt her softly run her fingertips down his exposed cheek. "And you know you could never deny me." Claiming his hand once more, she pulled him forward. "Now quit your grumbling and follow me."

Erik already knew they were at the Opera Populaire. Immediately following their wedding, the couple had journeyed to Paris upon hearing the news of the completion of the reconstruction. The fire had indeed wrecked havoc on the building, but it had not been beyond repair. In fact, they were both mildly surprised when the letter from Madame Giry had arrived informing them of the opening night, only ten months after the incident. Christine had been anxious to return to her childhood home and as his _lovely_ wife had pointed out only moment earlier, he had been unable to deny her.

The sound of ancient door creaking in protest as Christine turned its handle gave a clue to their destination and as the cold air rushed against his face, he knew without a doubt where they were. A moment later, he felt his wife's hands reach around to the back of his head and untie the piece of fabric that blinded him.

Having become used to the darkness from the blindfold, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the soft light that the moon offered. He blinked a few times and then brought his gaze down to the eager face of his beloved.

She was watched him with an anxious smile. "Well, here we are." She took his hand and began to lead him forward. "What do you think?"

He failed to see her point. "We're on the roof"

She cast him a reproachful gaze before saying. "I thought that to be quite obvious, my love. I meant what do you think of the surroundings?"

Her husband was quiet for a moment. "I find it quite ironic that you choose to bring me here of all places. The very place where you pledged yourself to another and left my heart in shambles. Forgive me, Christine, but somehow I fail to see the joy."

Choosing to ignore his verbal barbs, she release his hands and pulled on a pair of gloves she had tucked into her boots. Handing him his own gloves that she had somehow pilfered from his armoire, Christine turned away and hugged her arms around her. "Must you always bring up the past? I thought we were beyond that."

Having sheathed his hands in the worn leather, Erik quickly rubbed them together for warmth and then addressed her. "As did I. However, your little reminder seems to have brought it roaring back to life."

She turned on him then. "Only by your own accord, Erik. Don't you see." She brought her hands to cup his face. "I brought you here not as a painful reminder of our tremulous beginning, but as a celebration of our wonderful future, our new life together. Do you know how many time I wished it was you that I was with that night? Erik, you are the _only_ man that I wish to share my life with. You stir me in ways Raoul never did. Yes, he was.._is_ dear to me. But you…" She sighed deeply. "My God, Erik, you…you inspire my heart, _my very soul_ to sing. Do I not incite the same in you?"

Guilt colored his features. "My life is worth nothing without you, mon ange. You know that."

"Then how can you even question me?" Her hands moved from his face to grasp the lapels of his heavy coat. "Don't you ever, _ever _accuse me of anything other than loving you, for if that is my only crime." She raised herself up to feather a kiss across his jaw. "The I will gladly pay the penitence a thousand times over."

Pulling her to him, Erik closed his eyes and rested his cheek atop her mass of chocolate curls. "Forgive me, Christine." he rasped into her hair. "Forgive me for ever doubting you."

Her laughter vibrated against his shoulder. "I already have, my love. Besides." She pulled back to look at him, an impish gleam in her eyes. "there is something just utterly adorable about you when you're irritated.' before he had the chance to reply, she had flounced out of his grasp. "Oh Erik, look!" She turned to face him, her delicate mouth turned up into a brilliant smile that never failed to render him speechless. "It's snowing!"

He lifted his gaze to the heavens to see the small white flecks descending upon them. "So it is."

"Oh don't be such a killjoy." His wife scoffed at him as she twirled in the midst of the falling flakes, suddenly looking much younger than her twenty years. "Isn't it wondrous? This is my favorite type of snow, you know."

He arched a perfectly groomed brow. "Is it now? And how would this snow be different than any other."

The look she slanted in his direction said that the answer should be perfectly obvious. "Look at the ground, Erik. What do you see?"

Still not quite understanding, he obliged, only to see the pure gray of the concrete structure beneath his feet. He stomped it one or twice for good measure. "Only the rooftop, my dear."

"My point exactly!" She twirled again, the pure innocence of her not-so-long-ago childhood radiating from her. "This particular snow does not fall. It merely floats in the air, almost waiting to be caught." Christine turned to him then and grasped his hands tightly. "Isn't it magical, Erik?"

He chuckled at her antics and leaned forward to press an affectionate kiss to her forehead. "If it makes you happy, mon ange, then it is wondrous indeed."

She slanted her gaze. "There is no need to patronize me, Erik."

Her husband shook his head. "I'm not patronizing you, my dear. Merely indulging your every whim." An ironic smile played on his lips. "Not that I have ever refused you in the past."

"Hmmm." She pulled him forward to taste the sweetness of her kiss. "See that you never do." She whispered against his mouth. His sudden shiver caused her smile to fade. "Are you cold, my love?"

He blew into his hands before answering. "Perhaps just a bit. You forget that I lived the better part of my life in the cellars. While they may have been dark, they were also unusually warm." he smirked. "I must be getting fragile in my old age."

Christine playfully smacked his arm. "I would hardly call you old, Erik." She smile became almost wicked. "However, if you do find yourself to be frozen, I think I may know of a way to warm you."

The brow was up in an instant. "Do you now?" he found himself immensely enjoying his wife's quiet seduction. "And what methods do you have up your pretty little proverbial sleeves?"

She only laughed softly and raised herself up to kiss him, drinking deeply of the passion that was beginning to burn behind his gemstone eyes. When they broke apart, he could see the same smoldering embers in the depths of her gaze as well. "That, my love, is a question I can not answer with word. But don not worry." She gazed up at him through hooded eyes. "I can guarantee you will not be disappointed."

Erik said nothing, only offered his arm, which she took without hesitation. Bending down to steal a final kiss, he mused aloud. "I do believe, mon ange, that winter is quickly becoming my favorite time of year."


End file.
